


Leaving scars

by Angbanngh



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Domestic Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry Tolkien, M/M, Melkor hurts Mairon, So he snaps, The Silmarils drive Melkor crazy, Violence, Whipping, no shit he's whipping him and it ain't nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:40:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22016497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angbanngh/pseuds/Angbanngh
Summary: Melkor is angry. Mairon tries to calm him down. Things go horribly wrong.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Leaving scars

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, this gets very bad very fast.
> 
> Has a comforting end......but is it really comforting?

"Master-... Mas-... Melkor, calm down!" Mairon yelled, grabbing the taller man by his wrist, squeezing it tightly, hoping the touch would ground him again.

It did.

The anxious and hectic movements stopped, and Mekor slowly turned to face him. The relief that filled Marion's heart vanished immediately as he saw the gaze his Master gave him. A cold anger, like fire that turns blue because it's too hot, eyes glistening dangerously.  
It only took mere seconds for Melkor to switch their positions, getting out of Marion's grip to now grab his fellow Maia with a wrenching tightness.

And then, everything happened way too fast.

Everything went black for some seconds as a fist hit his cheek, hard, brutally.  
He found himself at the ground, yelping in pain when a whip hit the sensitive skin on his jaw. A second stroke followed across his cheek until he was able to cover his face with his hands, desperately trying to protect his eyes and throat from further damage.

"Melkor!" He screamed as the taller man cut his hands and through his thin shirt during the whipping.  
Mairon didn't even know what it was that he did wrong to anger his Master so much. Maybe it was talking to him at all, he thought.  
He knew that Melkor was in pain, that he was angry and disappointed about how things went with the Silmarils. He regularly let it out on the Maia by yelling and insulting him, but the "punishments" never went that far.  
For a second the room went silent as Melkor kicked the Maia's side, forcing all air out of his lungs by the sheer power of his hit.  
Mairon's wrists were grabbed and bound together against a bedpost, another stroke hitting his face before he even noticed it. Fresh warm blood ran down his cheek, drenching his sleeves as he tries to bury his face behind his arms.  
Soon his neck and shoulders were bleeding as well, and he was sobbing quietly into his now tear-drenched shirt.  
It seemed like Melkor finally grew tired of just hitting him, making his skin break by the force of his strokes. The whip hit the ground next to him, and through the ringing of his ears that was caused by some precise hits on the side of his head he heard Melkor dropping himself into the bedsheets.

He left Mairon tied to the bed, only half conscious and bleeding. But that wasn't even the worst thing to the Maia.  
It rather was the fact that he stopped caring about the looks he always adored, stopped seeing that Mairon would never do him bad, that he'd never do things the Valar would have to punish him.

That was what made Mairon cry. Right that moment he felt like he was worth nothing more than the elf they used to hang from that cliff, almost like he didn't matter at all anymore.  
He had sworn to take everything that Melkor put on him, let it be pleasure or pain, but this-...  
He would never leave Melkor, never in his whole life. He had bound himself to his Master in more than just that one way, and he was willing to go down with him, to hold him close as they'd shatter. He would stay with him until the very end, and he wouldn't stop his Master if it was him to end his life.

What would he desire on Arda anymore if Melkor cast him aside?

Time passed. 

He didn't even notice how he fell asleep out of exhaustion. The first thing he felt as he woke were hands, raw on his broken skin, and he immediately knew whom they belonged to.  
He opened his eyes as he realized they were even.... careful?  
He gave a hiss in pain as he was unbound from the bedpost, his arms numb and trembling from the position he slept in. He thought he'd fall without his arms holding him up, but instead he found himself in a tight embrace.

He was confused.

"I am sorry.." Mairon started, already about to apologize for interrupting him in his thoughts, not addressing him properly, yelling at him. But Melkor cut in, muting him by a light kiss on his lips.  
"I had no right to... my precious... I am the one to be sorry.", he heard his Master whisper, voice raw and apologizing. "I truly am..", he whispered before carefully lifting his Maia, making them both sit at his bed.  
As their eyes met, Mairon saw true regret in the ice-blue eyes he adored so much. And he believed him.

Yet still the unease never left his heart completely, for he knew Melkor was like a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later this incident would repeat itself.

He didn't knew how right he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I like this


End file.
